The Ten Commandments
by Ambikai
Summary: 'She can't she won't she is - she falls a hundred feet, a thousand feet.' Anthea is an Angel and Mycroft is intrigued - or: how Anthea came to be Mycroft's PA. Wing!Fic for the BBC Kinkmeme.


**Disclaimer:** I am not Stephen Moffat or Mark Gattis or the BBC or in any way possible

**Author's Notes:** Written for the following prompt on the BBC Kink Meme: _'I would really like to see wing!fic with not-Anthea in it. (...) I'm thinking that she has wings and that's why she was hired'_ and so here it is: not!Anthea has wings and because of this Mycroft hired her ... or something like that. Hasn't been beta'd, hope you enjoy.

**The Ten Commandments of Anthea and Mycroft**

**I** _He_ was the one who taught her how to fly. That's why she fell they say. It was all _his_ fault: it was Heaven's brightest fault that she fell. _He_ whispered things in her ear as she took to the cosmos, and bewitched her too sweet and innocent grace.

She always did need orders.

**II** When he was little, before Sherlock was a glimmer in his parents' eyes, the apple and eye of his parents, he liked candy. He would take his Mummy's hands, walk steadfastly to the corner store, past the groves of trees, along the country road, away from their manor, and stare at the colours: blue, pink, white, pink, green.

He would then reach up and grab a lollypop and happily lick it as his mother read him her thesis.

**III **They met when he was six and too smart, and she was something and too naïve. She was on the corner, a glimmer and mirage, not truly there just a fracture of two bright sunshine that glared onto a car's window, as the car hurtled towards a small boy who just wanted candy and would _one day_ know too much.

She wondered in that moment how they could predict what might come to pass and why they didn't give him the choice as per their Father's commands to make the right choice.

He remembers screeching tyres, being in line with a red (blood explosions scarlet) car, his Mummy screaming and then on the sidewalk bathed in white sunlight and a kind smile.

**IV** She can't she won't she is - she falls a hundred feet, a thousand feet. She falls so far, too far and its snapping at her, gleaming teeth wanting to take her but her voice is loss, throat too raw as the air cracks and weeps around her.

Has it been a second or thirty years?

**V** He needed a break from it all: legislation, Sherlock, security details, Lara, policies, luncheons, paperwork, Sherlock.

He got home, packed an overnight bag, stripped off his suit and pulled on his university jumper, jeans, trainers and hopped on the first train. As he got into town he walked the rest of way, passing over the familiar pathways of his childhood.

**VI** She stumbled, surrounded too tall trees while dark clouds crack above her. Her wings are too heavy, feather light gone as they like lead weights drag behind her, dark and red (hellfire sin fallen) tinged what had once been pure white. She was so bare, so exposed, so confused as the ground bled her feet, tears running down her face as it was all too cold. Too cold. Too cold.

She fell a hundred metres from a large manor and he was there to catch and hold her tight (warmth, heat, care).

**VII** He woke up in his old room, cold dread spreading in his chest and ran. The house was so dark but the faint glow of the bathroom led him to her, sitting on the floor, surrounded by hacked off bloody heavy wings (hers), and not crying, just staring at the toilet brush and all huddled up within herself.

He wrapped his hands around her (shirt spotted with blood, dry cleaning would be needed or a new shirt) and held her tight, raising her from perdition and into a different light of State secrets, troublesome brothers and long nights reading his own thesis and reports from university.

**VIII** "Please eat, please speak, please sleep" It's like Sherlock again except this time he's older and this time he never gets the bitter half-glances that Sherlock grew when their father died. All he gets is her kind smile and slowly slowly (he's patient) words tumbled from her mouth.

Her words were few and she felt uncomfortable with this new tongue even though she hides it with a sneaky grin (her kind smile is just for him) and secret eyes. She was his shadow, his guide, his conscience, his best friend - so for her first Christmas on Earth he got her a BlackBerry so that she didn't have to speak to strangers who looked at her with (sin sex whore) eyes, head down and organising his empire.

**IX** Sherlock took one look at her and for once didn't say a thing, just accepted her like a long lost sister.

Mummy loves her and she loves Mummy. He watches the two women conspiring together every Christmas, and notices how his Mummy knows to change from an angel on the tree to a star so she doesn't get sad eyes.I

**X** She wanted a name because her true one was far too bright, far too good for her. He told her nonsense but as she held him with that look of hers and told her about her other teacher who had been the brightest but fell so deep that he now had so many other names, and that she was no better and so_ had to have a new name_.

She is a beautiful strange exotic marvellous curious but silent creature with broken wings and a kind smile.

He called her Anthea because it was pretty like her.

**Fin**

**Author's Notes:** Comments are like Mycroft letting you stand under his umbrella - and very much appreciated :)


End file.
